Blood of the Dragon: An NA Epic Fantasy

by Warren, Samantha

  "Ychthorn is a good name. He was very noble. I've heard quite a few stories about him."

  Lana placed her hand on the dragon's head. "Do you like Ychthorn?"

  The little beast made a purring noise in his throat and Lana was filled with contentment. "He likes it."

  "Who likes what?" Bolgor plopped himself down next to Lana and began wolfing down his overflowing bowl of porridge.

  "We just named him. Ychthorn, meet Bolgor." The hatchling licked Bolgor's boot, cleaning it of spilled porridge.

  "Sounds good. I like it."

  Chapter 8

  The next week passed fairly uneventfully. Much time was spent teaching Ychthorn things every newborn needed to know. First on the list was distinguishing between good food and bad. They had a tough time convincing the young dragon that it was not acceptable to eat any chicken or goat that crossed his path. Graol had to appease several angry Gypsies for their lost creatures before the hatchling learned to wait for his food.

  The little dragon was also taught to speak. Hatchlings were usually kept in the hatchery for two months, which was the typical time it took for them to understand and speak enough to manage in the pens. Ychthorn absorbed information like a sponge and was speaking within the first two days. He thirsted for knowledge and asked more questions than Chelandra could answer. The two of them spent much of their time with Graol, who was quite knowledgeable in dragon history and answered most of their questions.

  A few days after the first night, Bellithana sat in the wagon stitching a jacket for the hatchling after he complained of being cold, while Lana read to him. Ychthorn had asked about his parents, so Graol had given them several books that dealt with Sigurd and Silene. They were deeply engrossed in a story about Silene and a water dragon when Ychthorn suddenly looked up.

  "Who are you?"

  Lana looked around in confusion, but Bellithana stared at the little dragon.

  "Oh. Nice to meet you. I've seen you wander through, but you never say anything. Why?"

  Belli turned toward the empty space as Lana wondered what the heck was going on.

  After a moment, Belli looked back to Ychthorn. "Thorny, you can see him?"

  "See who?" Lana's frustration and confusion was apparent in her voice.

  "Prigol, of course. He's right there." The little dragon waved his tail in the direction Belli had been looking.

  "No, of course I don't see him. He's Hidden."

  "He is?" Realization dawned on his face. "So that's why you always ignore them! I was wondering why they were called the Hidden."

  Belli shook her head in amazement. "I should've known. He is Sigurd's son, after all. That was one of Sigurd's gifts, too."

  Lana petted Ychthorn's head while he carried on a brief conversation with Prigol. After the Hidden left, they went back to reading. The week continued pleasantly, with Ychthorn learning the ways of the world quite rapidly and Lana finally participating, albeit with some difficulty, in conversations between the dragon, the Gypsies, and the Hidden. Bolgor spent most of his spare time with a Gypsy trainer, learning the art of close combat mace wielding. He was determined to be the guardian of the group and he was determined not to let them down. Lana also spent quite a bit of time fine tuning her skills with both sword and bow. The group would be on its own soon enough, and they needed to be able to defend themselves.

  As the first week came to a close, everyone was pleased with Ychthorn's progress. He had grown noticeably and his appetite was healthy. When he wasn't eating or learning, he was sleeping. The caravan traveled mostly at night, to give them extra protection. The temporary camp had been dismantled and everyone was settling into their evening routines when the first attack came.

  Enemy dragons swooped in from above without warning. Leucile had just settled onto the wagon, while Lana was putting Ychthorn to bed inside. Graol sat at the front with Bolgor, and Bellithana and Prigol were downstairs. The blast shook the wagon as it moved. Lana pulled Ychthorn down the stairs, fearing another attack. The box rattled on its wheels as Leucile rose to meet the attacker.

  It was a smaller dragon, bred and trained for close combat. His yellow wings beat fiercely against the darkening sky. Leucile's jaws stretched wide and tore a chunk of flesh from his underside before he could pull away. Lana could see Lilson further back, battling another yellow dragon. Klya came tearing down the wagon train, ripping the rider off Leucile's opponent as she passed. The man was thrown to the ground, broken and finished before impact.

  Leucile grabbed her attacker with both front claws and jerked him from the sky. The impact of both dragons hitting the earth sent a tremor through the wagon train. Gypsies surrounded the combatants and restrained the yellow beast, while Klya spit savagely into the eyes of Lilson's adversary. The creature disengaged immediately, clawing at her own face in pain. She had no choice but to land and was immediately overcome by the defenders. Her rider was arrested and thrown into chains. Lana saw the woman being dragged into the last wagon before Bellithana pulled her away from the window.

  They later found out that a small contingent had been sent to kill the hatchling. The female rider begged for mercy for her dragon. She was allowed to put the beast out of its misery in exchange for any information she had. No concern was given for the rest of the Gypsy train. The only target was the newborn. The attackers' sole command was to take out the wagon that the newborn was in and kill it. Their superiors had not realized the extent of the wagon train and the protection the child had. Lana learned that the woman had been given death, so she could forever rest beside her companions. The remaining dragon was restrained in an open wagon and guarded continuously. She learned that he would be handed off to a Gypsy contingent they planned to meet up with in two weeks.

  They were sitting around the table eating dinner a week later when Ychthorn asked, "Why do we keep the yellow dragon? Why don't we just kill him? It would be easier, and we'd lose less sheep."

  Bellithana stroked the hatchling's brow and smiled. "Thorny, darling, it is not for us to decide whether he should live or die. Unlike you, or Leucy, or Klya, or Lil, or Fil, he is not free. His actions are not his own. His entire life, he has done what others have told him to do. He has had no freedom, no opportunity to make his own decisions. He attacked us, not because he wanted to, but because he was required to."

  "Then why does he still try to fight us?"

  "It is all he has ever known. He has been taught that we are the enemy. He knows no differently. The Gypsy band we are meeting, they are some of the best breakers in the land."

  "What are 'breakers'?"

  "Breakers are named for their profession. They 'break' dragons of the king's hold on them. Don't get me wrong. They are not cruel. They use the kindest methods possible to show dragons that they are not slaves and they do not have to act as slaves. Most of the dragons who run with the Gypsies have been broken at one time or another. Or they are descendents of those who have been broken.

  “Lilson was broken more than a decade ago. Ask him about it, sometime. He does not mind sharing his story. His keepers were very cruel to him, and he did some awful things. After he was captured by a band of Gypsies, he won and then betrayed their trust. Many of the band were slaughtered because of him. But he realized his error. And he has been atoning for it ever since."

  The woman leaned over and kissed the hatchling on the brow. "We must give this dragon the chance at freedom. We cannot simply destroy him, or we will be no better than the king."

  After they had handed over the captured dragon, the wagon train continued south. They met little in the way of trouble and reached their destination less than two months after they had left Jaje. Lana and Ychthorn had no idea where they had been headed, and, as they reached their target in the dead of night, they had no notion of the end until they woke the next morning.

  Chapter 9

  Lana awoke with a start. The sun was shining brightly through her window and she was sweating under the covers. It had been growing steadil
y warmer the further south they went, and as she had never left her home village, she was not prepared to handle the heat. Gasping for air, she threw the blankets to the floor. Once she had recovered herself, she looked outside.

  The sun was shining brightly and the grass was a lush green. They were set up on the outskirts of another Gypsy camp, a camp larger than anything she had ever seen. Looking through the window, wagons stretched beyond the horizon. This was much bigger than the camp outside Jaje. It was bigger than even Jaje itself. She could not see animal pens anywhere, but there were Gypsies of all ages moving to and fro throughout the wagon village. She recognized some of them, but most were unfamiliar faces. Lana found one of the light cotton dresses Bellithana had sewn for her and went to wake up Thorny. He was snoring loudly, drenched in the warmth of the sun. Lana nudged him gently with her bare foot.

  "Wake up, you lazy bum!"

  Ychthorn snorted and jerked awake. After getting his bearings, he yawned deeply and stretched. He had grown quite rapidly and now covered more than a third of the feather mattress. Rolling onto his back, he grinned up at his best friend. Shaking her head in mock disbelief, she leaned down and scratched the upturned stomach. Thorny purred and yawned again before rolling over and getting up.

  "I'm hungry. Let's eat!"

  The scaly creature beat the barefooted girl down the stairs. Breakfast was waiting for them. Belli and Bolgor were already eating. Prigol was on guard duty outside. After a delicious breakfast of warm bread, goat cheese, and a juicy, sweet red thing that Bellithana referred to as fruit, Lana put on the sandals Belli had made for her and she and Ychthorn headed out to explore. They acknowledged a request from Leucile, lounging in the sun on the roof, to be back before dinner and set off. Bellithana had given Lana a handful of money and asked her to stop and pick up some more fruit on the way back. Lana couldn't wait.

  She and Thorny looked around and decided to head to the middle of the wagons and go from there. The fire pit was always the focal point of any Gypsy camp. This camp, however, was so large that it had four smaller fire pits, in addition to the large, main fire pit. With the help of a friendly old woman sitting on the stoop of her wagon, they found the path to the main fire pit. There were throngs of people along the main strip, but the crowds parted to let them pass. They saw people stopping on both sides to watch them and heard excited chatter on all sides.

  They had no trouble recognizing the main fire pit. It was surrounded by three rows of thick logs, some of them filled with folks eating breakfast. Several dozen black kettles hung over the coals. Smoke of all colors streamed from the kettles. Some were attended, others simply boiled happily along. A wide swath of dirt served as a path around the backside of the logs and it was bustling this morning.

  On the side of the path away from the fire pit, wagons were set up in the form of a market. It was obvious the market had been thriving in this particular place for many years. Many of the wagons had been turned into more permanent settlements and a few did not even have wheels. As they wandered along, they saw Gypsies hawking wares of all sorts. There were quite a few wagons dedicated to jewelry as most Gypsies, men and women alike, had an affinity for bright baubles. There were wagons full of cloth, and others full of clothing.

  The two friends chatted about all the interesting things they were seeing and almost ran into a large Gypsy man standing directly in their way. When they looked up, he had a scowl on his face. He had his long black hair pulled back into a tight bun. Large gold earrings hung from his ear lobes. He was dressed in a bright red shirt and pants. His arms were crossed in a defensive stance and he made no attempt to move. Lana's eyes grew wide, but Ychthorn stepped up to the man.

  "Excuse us."

  The man leaned down to look into the little dragon's eyes. "Excuse you? Have you done something wrong?"

  "No. Of course not. We want to keep walking, though, and you're in our way."

  "I'm in your way? Maybe you're in mine."

  A frown crossed the hatchling's brow. "Yes, you are right. That is entirely possible. My apologies."

  Ychthorn made to go around the man and he heard a deep chuckle. He looked up at the big man, who was now wearing a gold-toothed smile. The man leaned over again. "You're him. You're the one they keep talking about."

  "What? What do you mean?" Then the realization dawned on Ychthorn. He had spent the last two weeks with people who knew who he was and treated him like he was no different from them. He knew who his father was and he had heard a bit about what his and Lana's mission was, but up to this point, it had meant very little in the context of his short life. Looking up at the giant, he bowed his head briefly.

  "My name is Ychthorn. Nice to meet you."

  A big hand scratched the little dragon on the back of the head. "Nice to meet you, Ychthorn. I am Malxon. I'm the leader of this camp."

  "Oh!" The young woman blushed in embarrassment and shied away from the man's gaze.

  "You must be the protector. Chelandra, isn't it?"

  "Yes, sir." She took the hand that was offered. It was big and rough, like it had seen decades of hard work.

  "Well, children, let me show you around." He led them around the pit, showing off some of the more talented craftsmen. At one wagon full of clothing, Lana stopped to admire a beautiful, full skirt made with a bright orange pattern. "You like that?"

  The question made her jump slightly. She had not noticed the small, wrinkled woman on her right. "Yes, it is very pretty."

  "It is yours." The Gypsy took the skirt from its hook and handed it to Lana.

  "Oh, no. I'm sorry. I don't have any money."

  "No. No money. You will save us. You should be pretty when you're not fighting."

  The grinning woman shoved the skirt into Lana's hands and the girl looked to Malxon for permission. He smiled and nodded, then addressed the woman. "Thank you, Mira. Your work is beautiful, as always. I'm sure Chelandra will cherish this for a long time to come."

  After thanking the woman profusely, Lana joined the others and they continued walking. They were recognized more than once along the way and several merchants endowed them with wonderful gifts. Lana was given a beautiful beaded orange necklace to match her new skirt and an adoring butcher gave Ychthorn a huge slab of raw meat, on the condition that he got to feed it to the hatchling himself. The sun was high in the sky when Lana remembered her task for the day. She asked Malxon where she could find some "fruit."

  "Oh, come with me. The fruit stands are over here." He led them to a cluster of wagons and stands. The sight that greeted Lana was one she would never forget. She was expecting the juicy red things she had eaten for breakfast, but what she found blew her away. Not only were the delicious red items there, but there were other items of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Malxon, with amusement thoroughly apparent on his face, began pointing to each fruit and giving them names. The merchant at the stand had a tray with samples of the different fruits and brought it over. Lana tasted oranges, pineapples, coconut, more strawberries, apples, and bananas. Deciding on bananas, oranges, and more strawberries, Lana pulled out her money. The merchant waved it away and refused to accept it. He handed her a basket full of fruits, including some she had not yet tried.

  The generosity of the Gypsies was still on Lana's mind when they reached their wagon. As she helped Belli prepare some of the fruits, she asked about it.

  "You're a hero," the Gypsy declared, smiling. "And it's not just you. It's all of us. We are their hope. You, Ychthorn, me, Bolgor, Prigol. Everyone in our train has been greeted with the utmost respect. We have all risked a lot to bring Thorny here. He is our hope for the future, and everyone knows it. I'm sure after we have been here awhile, the excitement and generosity will wane, but for now, enjoy it. There's nothing wrong with accepting their generosity. Most of them are well enough off where handing you something small will not cause them to suffer. But keep it within limits. If you feel it is too much, do not take it. Thank them, but decline. You do not want to seem gr
eedy."

  Lana nodded agreement and popped a slice of banana in her mouth, savoring the delicious sweet creaminess. They would be in this camp for about two years, until Thorny was old enough to travel alone. She could see that the next two years would be quite fun.

  Chapter 10

  Alured stood behind the curtain, observing the mass of people collected in the room. They were there, waiting for him. He hated these meetings. They lasted forever and he always ended up stressed and starving at the end. He couldn't remember the last time he ended a meeting without a headache. Despite their necessity, he had cut them back from once a week to twice a month. His plan had the exact opposite of the desired affect. Now, there were more than triple the usual attendants each meeting. He couldn't understand it. His sister thought that maybe people who normally would postpone their problems, thinking they could just come the next week, were now afraid to postpone, thinking they may not be heard in time.

  He reached down and adjusted his leggings for the third time in a quarter of an hour. He hated these leggings. He hated this whole outfit. The leggings never fit right and always rode up uncomfortably. The robe was too heavy, too scratchy, and way too hot. The hat was ugly, really ugly. He really, really hated the hat. Why did his predecessors decide a heavy, metal hat was better than a crown?

  He looked out again. He hated those people. Sniveling, slobbering, groveling idiots, all of them. He hated the dirty, greasy peasants who came to complain about the drought, or the floods, or the freeze, depending on what time of year it was. Did they think he could control the weather? He hated the keepers, who came to complain about the lack of funds for their pens and villages. Where did they expect him to get the money if the farmers were not producing anything? How was he supposed to collect taxes if there was no money to be had?

  He hated the rich, self-important lords who thought they deserved more attention just because they were born into money. What made them better than anyone else? They got lucky. That's all. They no more deserved their money than the smelly farmers sitting next to them deserved to not have money. He really hated this. All of this. It wasn't just the meeting. It was the room. It was the palace that the room was in. It was the city the palace was in. He hated it all.